


Ice that Binds

by fleetfoot1



Series: 12 Days of Winter Whumperland 2020 [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 12wwday.3, AMWOW Winter Whumperland, Angst, Dick Grayson Whump, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28083183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleetfoot1/pseuds/fleetfoot1
Summary: Talon hated his coffin. He hated the way it forced him still, it forced any form of thought from his head, the overwhelming frigidness becoming his only sensation. He hated the way Cobb ordered him into it like it was nothing, especially when a tiny voice inside him raged and raged and raged in defiance, producing a throbbing pain in his temple that inevitably got him nowhere. He still ended up forced into the coffin, the cold taking over him the worst form of torture he ever experienced.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Series: 12 Days of Winter Whumperland 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053620
Comments: 13
Kudos: 144





	Ice that Binds

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3: Left out in the cold 
> 
> wowowow yall I had FUN with this one

Talon _hated_ his coffin. He hated the way it forced him still--it forced any form of thought from his head, the overwhelming frigidness becoming his only sensation. He hated the way Cobb ordered him into it like it was nothing, especially when a tiny voice inside him raged and raged and _raged_ in defiance, producing a throbbing pain in his temple that inevitably got him nowhere. He still ended up forced into the coffin, the cold taking over him the worst form of torture he ever experienced. 

The first time Talon was released from his coffin, he had little memory of anything before it. Not like he’d forgotten--no, he was well aware of the connections he’d once had, the experiences he’d once been a part of, the tasks of his own design rather than those of the court. He remembered them, but they were a haze, consisting of some kind of permanent fog in his mind. He was detached; he remembered the man who’d been a part of all of it--Richard Grayson--but that wasn’t important anymore. Talon wasn’t Richard. Talon was the weapon of the court, the Gray Son of Gotham. It was the court that controlled him, _commanded him_ , not whoever the foggy figures in his mind were. 

_Howard Fletcher,_ the Grandmaster had said. _Kill him, Gray Son. And make a display of it_. 

Talon had nodded, crossing an arm over his chest before bending at the waist in a swift bow. Cobb seemed to be watching him excitedly as he did so, a strange sort of thrill overtaking his face as he watched Talon move. But no matter. Talon had a job to do. 

Talon crept through the city, falling seamlessly among the shadows even under the bright streetlights of the wealthier part of town where Fletcher lived. Talon pressed himself in to the brick walls, barely tilting his head around the corner to scout the area in such an instinctive way that it gave him pause. Someone taught him that. Someone before Cobb. 

Talon shook his head, physically forcing himself out of his thoughts. He took another step forward, slowly pressing his toes into the brick before using the momentum to launch himself up, smoothly grabbing hold of the window frame outside Fletcher’s bedroom. The window slid open silently, and Talon slipped into the room, silent enough that Fletcher’s breathing didn’t even change. 

A woman was asleep in Fletcher’s bed next to him. Talon cocked his head, studying her. Her blood would add to the ‘display’ that the Grandmaster had asked for. Talon silently slipped a knife from his belt. A tremor went through his hands, then steadied. 

***

Talon flicked a hand towards a wall next to him in attempt to remove some of the blood coating him. The liquid nearly his whole body in a dull sheen, the red casting an eery glow over his already grey-pallor skin. 

But Talon felt no disgust. It was necessary for the task he had been assigned. From the initial slashes to slit the throats of his targets, which had left a spray of red liquid all over the bed and walls, to the additional cuts he’d made to leave the court’s message written where it could be seen. Talon didn’t know who the message was for, only that he had been told to write it. _He’ll see it_ , he’d heard the court murmur. 

Talon slipped out the same window he had come in from, shutting it silently behind him. He slid into the shadows again without a sound. Talon began making his way back to the court, and it was after a mile of travel that he noted the dark ghost following him. Far enough away that it was trying to remain undetected, but a tilt of Talon’s head had him confirming its presence anyways. But no matter. Talon simply sped up and made a sharp turn while the ghost fell behind. It didn’t reappear. 

The next time Talon was sent out for a mission, the ghost showed itself again. Talon had been stalking his target, getting an understanding of its habits and its reliances before deciding how to kill it with minimal obstruction. But the ghost dropped in front of Talon’s perch, his dark shadow surrounding him making him seem larger than he was. Talon rose slowly, taking the ghost in before taking a knife in each hand. 

At this the ghost seemed to flinch, those shadows retreating. He took a step back, his hands coming up in a gesture that was meant to be placating and whispered a name. Something in the back of Talon’s head tingled at the sound; it seemed to be the same something that gave him headaches on a regular basis.

The shadow repeated the word again, it was only then that Talon connected it to the conversations he’d overheard from the court. “Dick,” he repeated, after the shadow had finished talking. 

Something in the shadow seemed to still. “Yes,” he whispered. “It’s me, Dick. Do you know who I am?” 

Talon studied the shadow, taking in the symbol on his chest, the fabric draping over his shoulders before thinking back to the court’s whispered conversations once again. “Bruce Wayne,” he said, his voice coming out hoarse and gravely, and for a reason Talon couldn’t explain, _wrong_. “Batman.”

Batman seemed to startle. “Yes, Dick. That’s me.”

“Batman,” Talon said again. “The court is well aware of your presence. And your abilities.” Batman eyed him as he spoke, his gaze wary. “But you are interfering with Talon’s task. And if you continue to do so, Talon will have to eliminate the source of distraction.”

Something in Batman’s face seemed to shift. “Dick, please. I know you’re in there. It’s me, it’s _Bruce_.” 

Batman’s voice broke on the last word. But Talon simply drew his weapons, taking a step forward, before the Batman spoke again. 

“Okay, _okay_ , I’ll leave you.” He backed away, seeming to deliberately keep himself out of the range of Talon’s weapons. “But I will be back,” he said, looking at Talon’s face again. “Dick, I’m going to _fix this_.” 

Talon took another step forward, lifting his knives again. Batman backed away once more before turning and jumping off the roof Talon was perched on. Talon watched him leave, studying the odd way he grappled across the buildings. Then he turned, refocusing on his target once more. 

When he was done, and the tendrils of cold overtook his body in the coffin, Talon couldn’t stop thinking about Batman. 

The next time Talon ran into Batman’s family, he had already finished the task the court assigned him. He had been making his way across the city, mere blocks away from the sewer entrance when a body-armor clad figure wearing a shiny red helmet dropped in front of him. 

“Holy shit, Goldie,” the figure said, taking Talon in from head to toe. “Bruce told me, but I didn’t believe him.” His gaze seemed to linger on the blood coating Talon’s’ hands, the red streaks seeming too bright against the grey of his skin. “I couldn’t believe you’d actually do this.”

Talon didn’t shift. He didn’t sense any danger from the figure, and his body didn’t have the same needs as a human one, so he stood perfectly still, devoid of even the unnecessary movement of breathing. 

“Hood!” A voice cut through the air. “Hood, I swear to god, B said to--” The voice stopped suddenly, turning uncertain as it approached and saw Talon standing there. “Dick?” he whispered, his voice hesitant.

Talon didn’t warrant that with a reply, tilting his head to take in the two men staring at him. The helmet-clad figure seemed to shake himself out of his dazed trance first. He reached forward, placing his hand on the other boy’s shoulder and trying to tug him away. “C’mon, Timmy. We should--”

“No!” the smaller figure yelled, flailing the grip off his shoulder. “This can’t be real. Not the way Bruce said it was. Come on, Dick,” he said, his voice shaking, and his gaze never wavered from Talon’s face. “You know who we are, come home.” His voice broke. 

Talon looked at them, his face like stone. “Red Robin and Red Hood. Associates of Batman.” Red Robin and Red Hood both blinked, taken aback. He slipped two daggers from his belt, and that pesky voice in his head began raging anew. “Batman is an enemy of the court.” 

Red Hood’s gaze focused on those knives, and he grabbed hold of Red Robin’s shoulder again, firmer this time. “Red, we need to go,” he said, his voice sounding too steady to be natural. 

“No,” Red Robin shook his head. His voice sounded wet. “No he won’t hurt us.” 

Talon began to step forward “Tim, come on, bud,” Red Hood pleaded. 

“No!” Red Robin screamed, beginning to claw at Hood’s hand on his shoulder. 

Red Hood’s hand shifted to wrap around the front of Red Robin’s chest as Talon began to break into a run across the roof top. “Timmers, he’s covered in _blood_ , come on _please.”_ Red Hood’s voice had taken on a wet tone, too. 

Red Robin stopped flailing, and Red hood had a grapple line pulling them away less than a second later. Talon’s lunge brought the knife blade within inches of Red Robin’s foot before they slipped away. 

Talon watched them leave. Then he turned away, heading back towards the court.

The coffin was so, so cold. Talon just felt numb. 

The last time Talon met a member of Batman’s family, he had no reason to be out. No one had commanded him to stay, so he just...left. Talon knew he’d likely be punished later, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just wanted to feel the cool breeze blow across his face. 

He sat with his legs dangling off the edge of a skyscraper, watching the city grow quieter as the night overtook it. Talon wasn’t quite sure how long he sat like that, but he heard the near-silent footfalls of a small figure coming towards him. 

“Gray Son?” a small voice asked. At least, that’s what Talon thought it said. He whipped his head around immediately, but when he recognized the figure, Talon was fairly sure he’d misheard him. Or at least misunderstood his tone. 

Robin sat down next to him, looking incredibly small with his eyes wide and far more child-like than anyone had lead Talon to believe. “Richard,” Robin breathed. 

Talon didn’t move, simply continuing to study the child sitting next to him. At his silence, Robin looked away, blinking rapidly. He was quiet for a long time, and didn’t look at Talon when he spoke again. 

“I miss you, Richard. Father says you’re not coming back. At least...not the same way.” His voice was soft. “Drake yelled at him when he said that. I think that’s the only time I’ve ever agreed with him,” He added with a humorless laugh. The screaming voice in Talon’s head fell silent for once. “I think you would’ve been proud of us.”

Robin didn’t speak anymore after that. He tucked his knees up to his chin, and Talon was reminded again of how small he looked. Tears built up at the edges of Robin’s eyes; he let them fall silently. And when he reached out a hand--a gesture that seemed more like muscle memory than anything else--Talon took it gently in his own. 

When Talon returned to the court that day, he embraced the chill of the coffin. At least his heart didn’t ache while frozen. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, pls comment to keep me motivated. I love hearing from you!
> 
> I take requests on [tumblr](https://litrally.tumblr.com/)!


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